


Rendezvous

by thepsychicclam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron have sex...multiple times in multiple ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendezvous

1\. _Everyone’s a voyeurist, they’re watching me watch them watch me right now._

His breath caught in his throat. He had heard the first few bumps and thought they were just noises, not _noises_. He was padding to the kitchen, to the bathroom before bed. That’s when he heard it.

 _Moanbreathfuck._

He stopped dead in his tracks, listened and tried not to at the same time. He was no voyeur. He didn’t get off on those kinds of things. But he was shocked, intrigued even. So he inched closer to the bedroom door to listen. But to his surprise (delight, he mentally corrected), it was cracked.

Mass of tangled bodies, long legs and arms disappearing and reappearing, outstretched necks and pink tongues and sweat rolling between muscled shoulders. A glimpse of red hair, a glimpse of brown. Harry was shocked, slightly sickened at watching his best friend fuck another man. It was _Ron_ , for Merlin’s sake. But he couldn’t move.

He’d seen Ron naked hundreds of times – at the Burrow, in the dorm room, Quidditch practice – but this was different. He’d never seen Ron naked like this.

Ron’s body glided over the other man’s so gracefully. Muscles flexed, skin damp, hair sweaty and matted against his forehead, breath coming in short, labored gasps. Ron’s back was towards Harry at that moment, and Harry wasted no time in memorizing each part of him.

As he watched Ron’s hips thrust erratically, his cock wrapped in the other man’s hand, his perfectly-shaped ass right there for him to enjoy, Harry realized his own cock was pressing painfully against his pajamas. He felt dirty, yet more excited than he’d been in a long time. He didn’t even think he’d been that aroused the last time he’d had sex.

He battled with himself as he stood there. He morally refused to touch himself while he watched Ron in a private moment with someone, but he realized that he was halfway there by standing there watching anyway. And there was no way he was leaving now.

Then Ron flipped over to his back, legs spread wide so Harry could see everything, and Harry felt his cock jerk and he just couldn’t ignore it any longer. He carefully slid his hand inside the band of his trousers and wrapped his fingers around his hard cock. He let out an audible sigh, and froze, scared someone inside the room could hear him. They didn’t. Harry relaxed and started stroking himself slowly, almost teasingly.

The other man went down between Ron’s open legs, taking his cock fully into his mouth. Harry unconsciously licked his own lips. He watched as the man’s lips glided down, Ron’s cock disappearing and reappearing like a good tease. Harry found himself wondering what Ron would taste like on his tongue, the way his cock would feel inside his mouth, what it would be like to have Ron making those noises because of him. His fist tightened as he stroked in quicker, shorter motions.

But then Harry completely froze, his entire body rigid with fear. Ron had opened his eyes and looked up – straight into Harry’s eyes. They stared at each other for the longest moment of Harry’s life. If Harry could have moved, he would have turned around and darted away, all the way out of England if he could have. Ron’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled. A large, satisfied grin that spread all the way across his face. He pushed the man’s head down farther, eyes never leaving Harry.

Harry was confused. Embarrassed. And bloody well turned on. He didn’t move for a minute, cock hot and heavy in his hand, Ron’s gaze never leaving his. Then he started tentatively stroking himself again. Ron’s eyes flicked down quickly. He nodded in approval.

Harry’s hand started stroking his cock furiously, almost painfully on its own volition. He was gripping his cock so tightly he could barely move his wrist, but he felt an urgency he never had before. And Ron’s eyes upon his own gave him prickles all the way down his spine.

He came first, forehead digging into the doorframe, breathing heavy but eliciting no sound. He rubbed himself until he couldn’t stand it anymore, until he felt raw and worn and exhausted. He leaned against the doorframe for support, hand still wrapped around his soft cock. He watched as Ron bucked up, hips lifting off the blankets, mouth open to a strain of curses. His hips then dropped to the bed, the man crawling up Ron’s body, Ron’s cock dropping limp from the man’s mouth. The man kissed Ron.

Ron’s eyes never left Harry’s.

*

2\. _Cause I’m kissing you…_

It was quick. A light touch of the lips, really. Harry wasn’t even sure it counted as a kiss. He’d kissed plenty of people before, many different kinds of kisses, but none like this one.

He was standing beside Ron in the kitchen. It was early morning, before work. Ron was bleary-eyed and waiting impatiently for the coffee. Harry had been up an hour.

“Hand me a mug,” Ron barked, mouth barely moving. Harry handed Ron his favorite one. Harry fixed himself some breakfast, made some for Ron too, because if he didn’t fix Ron’s breakfast, Ron would go out without eating. He figured it was from living with Mrs. Weasley too long – he never really had to take care of himself.

Ron turned and headed out of the kitchen, but Harry called back to him. “Oi, breakfast.” He held the bacon sandwich up while the sleep-hazed cogs in Ron’s brain clicked into place.

“Thanks, Harry,” he whispered. He padded over to Harry, took the sandwich, then placed a light kiss on Harry’s lips. “What would I do without you?” he breathed against Harry’s mouth. Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harry standing there, completely shocked.

Harry was still standing there, coffee mug in hand, when Ron reentered the kitchen and attacked Harry’s mouth. Harry shoved the mug onto the counter as he kissed Ron, tasting remnants of coffee and bacon on his tongue. His hands were in Ron’s hair, on his shoulders, squeezing his arms.

Ron pulled away, both of them breathless. His eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, hair going everywhere.

“Sorry,” Ron chuckled. “I had to wake up.”

*

3\. _In a dress that’s faded black…_

It may have been Harry’s idea. Or Ron’s. Or the few firewhiskey shots. They’re not really clear on the details. They didn’t matter anyway.

All that mattered was that Harry was in a tight, short faded black dress Ron picked up near Piccadilly Circus. And fishnet stockings and black stilettos.

Ron had gotten on his knees, Harry perched on the edge of the bed, as he slid each thigh high stocking up Harry’s thin legs. Ron watched in wonder as the black material covered muscles and sinew, bony knee, then snapped with a pop around Harry’s thigh in a ring of black lace. He leaned down and licked around the lace-top, then bit just above it on the inside of Harry’s thigh.

The short dress barely covered Harry’s erection, but Ron ignored it for now. He slid the strappy heels on Harry’s feet, fastening each buckle around Harry’s ankle. He then slid his palms from Harry’s ankles, all the way up Harry’s stocking-clad legs, sliding his hands underneath the hem of Harry’s dress to grab his ass roughly. Harry grunted, and Ron kissed him quickly.

Pulling away, leaving Harry in agitated anticipation, he rummaged through a bag behind him and produced a tube of mascara and lipstick. Ron raised an eyebrow, almost unsure, but Harry leaned forward, eyes wide and lips pouty. Harry took off his glasses as Ron pulled the brush from the mascara, and with careful concentration, applied mascara to Harry’s eyelashes. It was intimate, having Ron’s hands so close to his eyes, Harry not being able to clearly see what was going on. He didn’t flinch or blink. When Ron finished, he blew on Harry’s eyes lightly, then leaned close, nipping at Harry’s earlobe.

“You have beautiful fucking eyelashes,” he breathed against Harry’s ear.

Harry replaced his glasses as Ron picked up the tube of lipstick – bright red – and applied it to Harry’s lips. The feeling of the smooth cream going across his lips, the occasional brush of Ron’s fingertips against his lips and chin, was one of the most erotic things Harry had ever felt. His entire lower face tingled with each touch.

“Perfect,” Ron whispered, admiring his work. “Come here.” He took Harry’s hand and led him to a mirror. Harry gasped. It was him, but it wasn’t. He didn’t look like a boy, but he didn’t quite look like a girl either. He just stared, mesmerized.

“You’re so bloody hot,” Ron whispered in his ear, watching their reflection in the mirror. His hand roamed across the front of Harry’s dress, up to Harry’s lips, thumb brushing lightly against the color, then he squeezed Harry’s cheeks between his fingers and pulled his face towards him. “Kiss me.”

Harry obeyed willingly, opening his mouth wide to Ron’s exploring tongue. He felt Ron’s tongue circle around his lips, tasting the lipstick, then Ron pressed his face roughly against Harry’s and turned his head. Then Ron pushed Harry’s face back towards the mirror. The red lipstick was smeared across his cheek and across Ron’s mouth.

“Slut,” Ron whispered, biting his earlobe. Ron smiled and Harry met his grin in the mirror. Ron’s hand slid down the front of Harry’s dress, fingers teasing lightly at the tent near the bottom. Harry couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. Ron then hiked the dress up higher, watching Harry the whole time in the mirror. He freed Harry’s hard cock, and Harry thrust his hips out wantonly, wanting – no desperately _needing_ – Ron to touch him. But Ron just stared at him, slowly taking in every part of him. Harry thought he looked ridiculous – smeared lipstick, tight faded dress hiked up to reveal his cock and balls, lacey tops of black fishnets. But Ron didn’t seem to think so.

He grabbed Harry’s cock and Harry leaned back against Ron’s body. Ron was taller than he was, even in the heels, so it was easy to rest against him comfortably. Ron stroked him slowly, tantalizingly slow, as they watched themselves in the mirror. Ron’s other hand held Harry close as he rubbed himself against Harry’s ass. Harry tried to reach his arm around to touch Ron, but Ron slapped his hand away.

Ron placed sporadic kisses along Harry’s neck, shoulders, cheek, ear, hair, hand moving all the while. It didn’t take long until Harry was struggling to keep his eyes open, grunting and moaning and thrusting into Ron’s hand. Then he came, Ron’s hand tightly gripped around his cock, come landing on the bunched black dress.

*

4\. _Six, lips. Five, fingers. Four…play. Hold it, let’s go straight to number one._

The Quidditch lockers were rough against Harry’s back. The locks and latches were digging into his bare back, but that didn’t deter them.

Ron had gotten rid of their Quidditch robes and jumpers quickly. Their trousers were pooled around their ankles, gloves still on. That was a requirement for Harry – he wanted to keep the gloves. He loved the feeling of rough leather mixed with soft fingertips against his skin.

“We don’t have much time,” Harry whispered to Ron. Ron mumbled a response against his neck, then flipped Harry around. Harry’s chest and face pressed into the lockers, cold against his body. Ron thrust into him quickly, Harry groaning in protest then pleasure. The lockers made noise every time Ron pushed into him, and Harry tried to push back against Ron to eliminate some of the sound. It didn’t help very much.

Harry’s hands were splayed against the lockers, giving him more leverage to push back against Ron, because he wanted him _deeperfasterhardernow_. Ron’s Quidditch gloves were rough against his bare sides as Ron gripped him – that’d be a bruise in the morning – and they made it hard for Ron’s fingers to intertwine with Harry’s glove-clad hands against the wall.

Harry craned his neck so he could kiss Ron, needed to feel Ron’s mouth and tongue inside his own. The kiss was rough, teeth and lips and fervor left over from the Quidditch game. Ron dropped the hand from around his waist to his cock, the soft, rough leather wrapping around his shaft. He dropped his own hand to join Ron’s, helping glide it quickly along his cock.

“Fuck,” Harry spat as he came. He felt Ron’s forehead pressing against his shoulder, teeth sinking into his back, fingers curling. Ron thrust a few more times, then stood still against Harry’s back. “Fuck,” Harry said again.

*

5\. _Anytime…any place…I don’t care who’s around…_

The Tube was nearly empty; it was almost one a.m. There was an old couple on the other end of the train car, but that was it. They wouldn’t have even been riding the Tube, but Ron loved this form of Muggle transportation and wanted to take it whenever he could. Harry would just as well apparate, but he would do pretty much anything Ron asked him to.

As soon as the train started, Ron dropped his hand onto Harry’s crotch. Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Ron was wearing a mischievous grin.

“This is why you wanted to ride the Tube,” Harry said, comprehension dawning. “You’re such a pervert.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Ron said, leaning over and kissing Harry fully on the lips. Harry glanced over Ron’s shoulder at the old couple at the other end, but they weren’t paying them any attention.

Ron wasted no time unbuttoning Harry’s trousers and shoving his hand inside. He wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock as the train took a bump, jostling them nearly off the bench. Ron corrected himself easily by crawling further on top of Harry. Harry broke away from Ron’s mouth, which made Ron kiss, lick, and bite along Harry’s neck and chin. Harry glanced around, paranoid somebody was watching them. There was still no one around, but he couldn’t imagine having to face Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, not to mention the people at work, if they got caught shagging on the Tube.

“Relax,” Ron whispered as he worried a spot on Harry’s neck. “No one’s gonna find us. You need a good handjob. You’re too tense.”

Harry sighed and settled back, trying to relax. Ron’s hand was working on his cock, which was now good and hard, and he pulled up the hem of Ron’s shirt so he could slip his hand inside his trousers. Ron’s mouth made it back to Harry’s, and Harry kissed him back eagerly this time. Then Harry felt the train slowing.

“Tube stop!” Harry whispered frantically against Ron’s mouth.

“Don’t fucking care,” Ron replied. Harry craned his neck to look out the spacious windows. He saw a few people, but when the train stopped, no one got on their car. The old people were still down in the corner, seemingly oblivious. When the train started going again, Harry returned his attention back to Ron.

“If you don’t stop worrying about everything else,” Ron started, “you’re never going to come. And neither am I.”

“Sorry.” Harry tightened his fingers around Ron’s cock and stroked it faster. Ron rubbed his hips against Harry’s legs – he was half-standing, half-sitting on Harry and the seat – and the longer Ron touched him, the more his own hips started to move.

“I’m gonna suck your cock now,” Ron whispered against Harry’s mouth.

“No!” Harry squealed.

“Yes.” Ron leaned down, unzipped Harry’s trousers just a bit and pressed his face against them as he pulled Harry’s cock out. Harry had to give it to Ron; at least his cock was never visible.

Harry leaned back against the seat, looking around. Old couple still in the corner, tube still going. Ron was not discreet at all, but Harry was beginning to care less and less. Ron’s hand had taken Harry’s place inside his own trousers, and Harry felt slightly guilty that Ron was doing all the work. But this was Ron’s idea, and so it served him right.

Harry curled his hands in Ron’s messy hair, pressing his head further down as he bucked his hips up. Ron’s tongue was swirling around his head, mouth completely covering the exposed part of his cock. It was kind of a rush, sex out in public like this. Harry was scared every second they were going to get caught, but it was kind of a turn on.

Harry grunted and bucked up violently as he came in Ron’s mouth. He was trying to be quiet when he really wanted to fucking scream at the top of his lungs and fill the whole train car. Ron kept sucking until Harry crumpled into the seat completely spent. Ron lifted up and kissed Harry lightly, a mixture of beer and come on his tongue, Ron’s hand still inside his trousers.

Harry glanced up and realized where they were. “Hurry up! Our stop is coming up.” He felt Ron’s arm move faster, his kiss become more frantic, then Ron sat up beside him on the bench, completely flushed.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Ron said, grinning from ear to ear. Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his own face. The train stopped then, and they got up and walked towards the door. The old couple was standing there, too. They both glared at the boys.

“Disgusting,” the old woman said as they stepped off the train.

“No fucking way,” Harry said as he and Ron erupted into giggles.

“Fucking brilliant,” was Ron’s only reply.

-fin


End file.
